You've Got a Friend
by MrsLJG5
Summary: Ellie doesn't fit into the NCIS fold and is a target for the probationary hi-jinks. She finds a friend, a kindred spirit in the observant, wise Suzanne McNamara. Chapter 2 added 2/24/14.
1. Chapter 1

Eleanor Bishop was visibly upset, wondering if she made the right move—leaving the NSA for NCIS. Quirkiness worked at the former. It clashed with her 'Life is not a popularity contest,' mantra. During troubling times and instances, her methods, beyond the traditional, were overlooked. At NCIS, she just wanted to blend into the cohesive unit, to be accepted by peers. Instead, she continually clashed with colleagues and became the whisper and hearty laughter of others.

Her name was no longer Eleanor, even Bishop. It was "Probie—probationary agent." The title echoed through her mind. She saw a grinning, torturous Tim McGee, giving orders, basking in the moment where he enjoyed the 'good-natured' NCIS orientation. Gibbs bypassed her names, calling her Probie as well. The tears welled in her eyes, as Ellie held her anxieties inward. It was a twisted, parallel universe where Anthony DiNozzo assumed the tormentor role; instead, he was an advocate, the reasonable one.

"I'm going downstairs for coffee. Excuse me." Ellie arrived to the "bottom"—Bottoms Up Café, to grab a cup of coffee, perhaps something sweet.

"So many choices…" she mumbled, looking through the dessert tray. Ellie spilled the cup.

"Just great…" She muttered and groaned in frustration. Ellie stopped for a moment. An unexpected hand joined in the cleanup.

"You know, my nickname for you is Southfork-from the TV show, Dallas? Miss Ellie? Eleanor Ewing Farnsworth? The Mama?" Ellie stood there, quiet instead of talkative, and confused with the classic TV reference.

Enter Suzanne McNamara.

"Honey, I give everyone nicknames. I chose Miss Ellie, because you sure as hell got a soap opera going on upstairs!" Suzanne chuckled.

"I'm sorry about the mess."

"It's okay."

Suzanne was an agent's best friend at NCIS. One of the unspoken but understood rules was to get along with the person who feeds you-Rule 23b. She worked in the cafeteria, or craft services, for several years and always offered beverages and made-to-order sandwiches for the employees at peak and off-peak hours. Suzanne was also the welcome wagon of the team, knowing everyone's name, preferences, and a little personal information just from listening and observing.

"I'm Suzanne, by the way. You must be Ellie Bishop."

She nodded.

Suzanne McNamara's name was spoken before on the NCIS floor. Tim called her a 'Goddess' while Tony referred to the twenty-something as an 'exotic fish'—lively but sometimes cold. She was seldom seen. She was easy to recognize—tall, dark-complexion, and darker, mysterious eyes behind bifocal glasses. Her work uniform—polyester pants, denim shirt—did little to stir attention. Ellie noticed at work once or twice, couldn't make of her overall personality. Suzanne's responses were often two ways: soft—

_"Would you like some more?" She would smile and pour that Southern charm for others, refilling coffees._

Or she was to-the-point.

_"I don't like you!" _

That was her usual response to Tony DiNozzo.

_"Susie, let's go to a movie." Tony suggested. "They're having a Spike Lee festival at the Atlas."_

_"Why can't we see John Ford, or Kurosawa? Howard Hawks?" While Tony stood speechless, Suzanne delivered a zinger._

_"And I told you my name is Suzanne. Clown!" She rolled the cart back to the service elevator. _

Generally, the people described Suzanne as a very nice person.

"I just brewed tea for Dr. Mallard and prepared a sweet tray of scones, cookies, not that they deserve any of it…" Suzanne said. "Not the way they've been dogging you…"

Ellie's sigh was heavy.

"Listen, let me get this while you sip the Brodie's Tea and have a scone." Suzanne pulled a small cloth from her apron, dabbed and wiped the surface. "Sit down for a while, just relax."

Suzanne carried a phone in her apron pocket. She pulled out the cordless phone, punched in Gibbs' extension and explained the nature of the call.

"Don't worry about Gibbs; I'll tell him you're downstairs." Suzanne assured.

"Hey, Ellie: use the China cups, if you don't mind. There's something magical about using actual china cups…"

"You trust me?" Ellie laughed quietly.

Suzanne nodded, chuckled at the response as she watched Ellie prepare the setting, listening to the gentle clanging of the saucer and cup.

"Hi. It's Suzanne down in the bottom… Ms. Bishop is keeping me company." It was her personal way of informing Gibbs the whereabouts of his employee.

"I'm doing set up and we're having a little girl-talk…we'll arrive shortly."

"Thanks, Suz." Gibbs replied.

"I'm glad you're here. I'm closing the downstairs area and setting up stations." She shared, pulling the gate, twisting the locks. "You can keep me company while I do set up."

"I can help you." Ellie offered.

"I got this. Just relax." Suzanne smiled. An appropriate tune for the afternoon, _You've Got a Friend_ started.

With Ellie sipping her tea and easing back, Suzanne continued her chores inside the cafeteria. Slowly, she relaxed and listened to the background music.

"I've been doing setups and breakdowns alone 5 years now…I can do this in my sleep…." She moved quickly with the portable floor sweeper.

"I didn't know about the 'Bottom' until today." Ellie continued preparing the tea.

"The best kept secret around...Everything's homemade." Suzanne chimed, reaching for the remote to adjust the music volume. "The best part…you can relax." She hummed along with the singing, washing tables and rearranging the place settings.

Suzanne poured her heart into the singing. Her head swayed, eyes closed…

Suzanne sat down, closed her eyes and shook her head. "It's been a James Taylor type of day." She exhaled noisily, opened her eyes and faced Ellie. Suzanne smiled and repeated the lyric for reassurance.

"It seems like you need one today, one of those days where nothing seems to go right." Suzanne said. Ellie nodded in agreement.

"This is delicious tea." Ellie clasped the cup. "Much better than the coffee…"

"It's a Scottish tea—decaffeinated—still has a little punch. It lifts your spirit." Suzanne offered to pour, while Ellie held a hand, signaling only a small amount.

"What's going on?"

"Suzanne, I don't belong here." Ellie sighed. "I don't fit with the organization."

"Why would you want to fit? Sitting on the floor, papers spread all around, recalling details without notice…Honey, that's your personality, your niche at NCIS." Suzanne continued, finishing the thorough wipe down.

"Listen, _Ellie_, you belong here just like than anyone else." Suzanne concluded. "Don't let anyone else say different. Okay?"

Suzanne turned to find Ellie nodding, smiling.

"Do you mind me asking what your niche is, other than good coffee and pastries?"

"Mine?" She emitted a guttural laugh, pushing the elevator button. "I'm just an overpaid barista."

"I think you're more than that."

"Maybe." Suzanne nodded in agreement, counting money and matching to daily receipts. "But, I have some talents, many I don't easily disclose. You need to stick around to see what they are, Miss Ellie." Suzanne pushed the cart inside the elevator, grunted slightly.

"Who knows? Maybe the two of us could solve problems of the world in a 30 minute break."

Suzanne continued bopping around the building, double-checking the equipment and supplies. She flashed the lights, tapped Ellie on the shoulder.

"Time's up, Sister. We're going to the Penthouse-MTAC. Then, I'm going to class." Suzanne directed Ellie to the service elevator.

"Feeling better?" Suzanne asked.

"Thank you, Suzanne."

"I told you. Drinking from fine china will do that." Suzanne smiled. She snapped her fingers, quickly darted out of the elevator into the office.

"You know, I am constantly reminded by Gibbs…" Suzanne grabbed her backpack, jumped beside Ellie. _"Rule 5: You don't waste good." _Suzanne quoted, patting her bag. "He's been encouraging me with this school nonsense."

"You know the rules?"

"Sweetie, I know**_ everything _**that goes on at NCIS." Suzanne grinned. "I won't always be your friendly, neighborhood coffee girl."

The elevator chimed and door closed.


	2. Friendship

"Where's Jethro…?" Suzanne began. "I mean, where's Gibbs?"

"Still in Stillwater. Said he wanted to be alone." Ellie answered.

Those who knew Jethro Gibbs agreed he said little, allowed anyone to know more than needed. It surprised Suzanne McNamara to learn from Ellie Bishop that the elder Gibbs passed away. _I'd thought he would mention it, Suzanne muttered. _

"Not going to happen." Suzanne answered firmly.

She was insistent, determined to see her friend, Jethro Gibbs. Suzanne drove to Stillwater over the weekend. She knew from personal experience the loss of a parent, particularly a father. Emotional pleadings to 'be left alone' were the very times companionship was needed. Suzanne's father died suddenly over the summer. Like Gibbs, she received the news through a phone call, just said she needed to go back to Williamsburg. When she was at the parish, it was Gibbs who sat at the memorial service, walked with her and talked with her afterwards.

She cried the entire way, thinking of her friend.

She met Jackson Gibbs years ago when she first began at NCIS' crafting service. It was a memorable meeting, where she chuckled in its' details. Suzanne worked during the Christmas holiday. The plan was to earn enough overtime and holiday pay in lieu to visit Williamsburg after the New Year. Jackson came to visit Jethro, became bored watching his son work and rambled downstairs to the café for coffee. During shift change, Suzanne stocked the freezer and refrigerator. She walked inside the dining area after several minutes away from the alarms. She saw only a silvery crew cut buried in the newspaper.

"Agent Gibbs, would like more coffee?" Suzanne asked while wiping the tables.

"Hello, Darlin'."

Suzanne smiled, laughed awkwardly.

"Oh, I am so sorry, Sir! For a second, I thought you were an agent at NCIS!" She continued with the explanation, walking with the carafe. "He usually comes in, grabs a cup of coffee and reads the newspaper…" She studied the gentleman once again, stopped and chuckled. "Like you!"

"You must be Suzanne, the new employee." Jackson began, folded his paper. "My son has said wonderful things about you." Jackson smiled. "Jethro doesn't say much, unless you make an impression."

"Well, I appreciate the kind words." Suzanne poured the coffee, smiling and glancing down in modesty. "I'm surprised he even knows my name!"

"You know, he is right: you are charming, friendly and have a beautiful smile." Jackson said. "I believe 'memorable' was the word Jethro used to describe you. Can't say I blame him." Moments passed. Jackson watched Suzanne do side work, enjoying the hot beverage. His blue eyes sparkled.

"What are you doing around here at Christmastime, kid?"

"Last hired, first to do holiday rotation…." Suzanne sighed, wiping the tables. "I'm giving up Christmas and New Year so my colleagues can spend time with their kids."

"What about your family?" Jackson asked.

"I'm going home next week for two weeks." Suzanne grabbed her coffee cup and joined the gentleman at the table. "Besides, Christmas is not my thing. Easter is the one holiday I want to be at home." Suzanne smiled as she shared more details about her preference for the spring holiday.

"Every year, my mother bought me a dress and bonnet for Easter." Suzanne traced the rim of her coffee cup, sipped carefully, and savored its taste before continuing her train of thought. She smiled, reminiscing her younger days. "I always believed that the season was about renewal—commitment to the Word of God, remembrance for the miracles we have on Earth."

The friendship was genuine. Suzanne shared more with Jackson Gibbs than his own son, a person she saw on a daily basis! They talked a lot—various things from military to gardening. The two remained in touch through letters and an occasional phone call without Jethro's immediate notice.

Jackson regularly mailed monetary gifts to the employee, concerned she worked too much. He insisted that Suzanne use the money for tuition and books. Attached was always a reminder:

_"Kid—you've got to stop and enjoy the scenery." Sincerely, Jack._

Suzanne never cashed the checks. Instead, she'd send it back with a thank you card.

_"Appreciate your concern, Sir, but I cannot accept it. '_Nothing ever comes to one that is worth having, except as a result of hard work.' _Booker T. Washington._

Jackson viewed the girl as a suitable romantic match for his son. He tried to convince Jethro to start a relationship.

"Suzanne's off for the next two weeks." Jethro answered his dad's question while downstairs. "She went back to Williamsburg to see her family."

"It wouldn't hurt if you took the girl out to dinner once in a while." Jack suggested after a second visit to Washington.

"Who, Suz?" Jethro laughed.

"Yes, Susie."

"That girl's something else." He commented. "She's been at NCIS almost 5 years, Son, and you've never talked to her?"

Jethro thought for a brief second a possibility of romancing the girl, one who met Jack's approval. Jackson Gibbs liked Suzanne.

"Suz's always busy…I'm always working…" Jethro answered with a chuckle. "You know she's attending law school, always working…I'm not sure _if_ she's interested."

"All you have to do is ask, Son."

The last gift Jack sent was one Suzanne she could not easily return. While going through old belongings, he found a hand-sewn quilt made by Jethro's mother, Ann. Well worn, a bit faded, and unraveling, the lavender scent after 40 years remained, which immediately made him think of Suzanne. He remembered the Peace Corps stories Suzanne shared about the quilting circle, how she learned to sew in the Guatemalan village. Their last correspondence, she received days ago with a heart-felt note.

_Susie, _

_Ann and I received this at the beginning of our marriage. It symbolizes an unbreakable love and warmth between couples. May you experience an unbreakable love for the ages with this quilt. _

_Now, I know you're wondering why I speak of love. As I went through some belongings and stumbled across the quilt, it is only fitting that you, young woman, have my son's attention! Your name was mentioned during our Sunday telephone calls, Jethro mentioning how you smelled sweet like lavender. Ann wore lavender as did Shannon. It is a message from God—He has a way with direction! _

_We wanted a daughter, but God saw fit to keep our son an only child. If we'd been blessed with a girl, I'd want her to have your ambition, compassion, courage and enthusiasm. I worry, just like your father, that you are too focused on the goal. It is why I've advised you to stop and enjoy the scenery. _

_ I know how close you are to finishing the program. I am proud of you, Susie. You and Jethro are both professionally driven but romantically cautious. _

_ You're hiding behind your textbooks. Suzanne, open your heart and experience romance. You need a distraction; so does Jethro. The Good Book discusses equally and unequally yoked relationships between men and women; you and my son are equally yoked. _

_You are the answer, the very solution to ease his heartbreak throughout life. If I can state a case for Jethro, I think he is your true "Michael," the one man you'll grow old, have children and embrace everything enchanting, infuriating and mysterious about you. You will become an important part of Jethro's life, whether platonic or romantic. We can make a case that the same love and warmth are shared in friendship and marriage. Just think about it, Darlin'. _

_I love you, Susie, and I thank you for your friendship._

_With love, Jackson. _

The drive was exhausting; a rollercoaster of emotions flooded her thoughts. Tears streamed down her face, remembering with fondness her friend: the charming, flirtatious Jackson Gibbs. She appeared on the doorstep.

"Suz…" Gibbs was surprised.

"Hi. I thought you needed some company." Suzanne brought groceries into the living area. "And I'm not taking no for an answer!"

"Suz…" Gibbs sighed. She ignored the tone, walked into the home and into the kitchen. Within minutes, she was using the oven and stove, baking and cooking.

She adjusted the sunshade, allowing little pieces of light inside. Suzanne also opened the kitchen window. The gentle breeze served as a diffuser, the baking waffled throughout the house. From Jackson's letters, she had a general know-how where he kept certain items. Suzanne prepared and moved about like her own home. Gibbs resigned to the fact Suzanne was not going anywhere. He sat quietly at the table, looked out the window. She glanced over the shoulder and noticed his inattention. Suzanne continued unpacking food, even brewing coffee.

She slipped on a cooking apron, the one with teapots that slipped over the head with ties accentuating her waist.

"I recognize that apron…"

"Jack bought this for me." Suzanne said. "He sent it to me as a Christmas present, said every Southern woman needed a good-looking apron for cooking."

She stroked the base of Gibbs' head, her hand resting on his neck.

"Hey, you need to eat something." She suggested.

"I'm not hungry, Suz."

"You need to recharge those batteries." Again, Suzanne ignored. She walked to and from the table, handing him dishes of various comfort foods.

"My parents used to say that." Gibbs chuckled, smiled.

"Now if you don't like this…" Suzanne commented. "I'll whip up something else." She returned to the kitchen corner and quietly sipped her coffee.

"When did you learn to cook?" Gibbs asked.

"I started cooking the family dinner once I started high school." Suzanne walked to the table, refilled Gibbs' coffee cup. "I was the first one home, so it made sense…" She sat across from Gibbs, watched him finally eat some food. "Anyway, I watched my Nana Mac cook when I was little. I picked it up from her."

"Nana Mac?" Gibbs repeated.

Suzanne picked at her meal, eating very slowly. It was her habit—dawdling at mealtime. After cooking, she had little appetite. Part of it was medication-related; Suzanne was diagnosed with hypothyroidism years ago in college. The medication curbed her eating habits.

"Grandma Denise McNamara—part of my namesake." Suzanne replied. "I was named after a Lou Reed song…"

_"I Love You, Suzanne?"_

"That's the one." Suzanne replied. "Mom and Daddy named us three all with an S and a D. Their names were Susan Davidson and Solomon Daniel. Anyhow, Nana Mac's name was Denise. Grandma D was my mom's mom—Grandma Sarah Davidson."

She retrieved the dirty dishware to wash. Suzanne returned to the kitchen sink, washed the dishes and cleared the countertop.

"Thanks for the food, Susie."

"Jackson called me Susie." She smiled, briefly glancing over her shoulder. "He was the only person, other than my family that I allowed to call me Susie."

"I didn't know…" Gibbs paused. "I found your letters, the returned checks…Dad thought the world of you." Gibbs said.

"I enjoyed his company." Suzanne replied. "Jackson was a second Daddy to me. I thought the world of him also, told him I loved him too."

Both awkwardly chuckled, a reaction to the depth of the conversation.

"Ask you a question?" Gibbs began. "How did you…?"

"What really helped was keeping busy." Suzanne whispered. "That's how I took up painting as a hobby." Judging by Gibbs' wrinkled brow, a further explanation was offered on the question, how to move on from the death of a parent. "Jack bought me studio time, something I could not easily return…"

She became quiet.

"Peace comes when you've given everything freely and unconditionally." Suzanne answered. "When I moved to Washington, I made it a point to call, say I love you to my parents. When you're the youngest, you think of that one phone call. That's when Daddy died, it hurt…but not so much." Suzanne sighed, fiddled with her watch.

"Well, Solomon McNamara left Earth knowing how his daughter _loved _him and how much he loved me." She smiled, nodded.

"I wondered how you remained so strong after your dad's death." Gibbs explained.

Suzanne paused, nodded. Her voice trembled. "It's not easy, as we both know." Suzanne added. "You talk a good talk, walk a good walk…but it's faith in above that helps." She removed her apron, folding it carefully and placing it in her bag.

"Friendships help too….your work family. That's why I drove here…figured you wanted to…maybe talk." Suzanne pulled a DVD—_To Have and Have Not_—from her backpack. Gibbs chuckled. She popped popcorn, carried it into the living room. Suzanne reached for Gibbs' hand, squeezed it gently.

"Jackson knew…how much you loved him, okay?" Her reassuring tone and expressive eyes eased him. Gibbs needed the company, he realized. He didn't want Suzanne to leave.

"You can stay the night, sleep upstairs …" Gibbs suggested.

It took only moments for her to change. "I'm fine downstairs. Besides, I usually sack out on the couch." She explained, the door was cracked slightly to continue a conversation. "My TV is downstairs; I fall asleep watching ZNN or Sox News." Suzanne returned, wearing old sweat clothes and her flowing brown hair in a ponytail.

Suzanne and Gibbs sat on the couch, covered themselves with a well-worn quilt. He reached for the desk lamp, flipping it off.

"Tony suggested the flick, by the way." She smiled. "I don't watch a lot of classic movies."

"Well, maybe…I can take you to the Atlas to see one." Gibbs suggested. "After dinner?"

"Maybe." She chuckled.

"Thanks." Gibbs whispered. "Thank you for coming to see me."

Not known for affection, Gibbs surprised even Suzanne by embracing her, kissing her hair.

"Hey, what are friends for, Gibbs?" Suzanne responded in a soft chuckle and smile.


End file.
